Meet Me in St Louie
by Randy Taylor
Summary: Randy goes on a school trip to Missouri, but something bad happens along the way. Will Randy ever see his family or his home state of Michigan again?
1. Prologue: Hugs and Kisses Goodbye

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Prologue

Summary

Randy goes on a school trip to Missouri, but something bad happens along the way. Will Randy ever see his family or his home state of Michigan again?

Prologue

'Mom, we need to hurry up. I can't miss the bus' said 17 year old Randy Taylor.

He was leaving on a school trip to Missouri on the morning of January 20, and is due back in Detroit on January 29.

'Okay, so Randy, do you have everything packed that you'll need?' Jill asked as she came running down the stairs, car keys in hand.

'Mom, for the millionth time, I have everything I'll need!' said Randy, obviously frustrated by his mother's constant nagging.

There was a big snowstorm forecasted between Detroit and St. Louis, but the teachers in charge were determined to ride down there anyway.

Both Randy and his mom silently listened to the radio on their way to the school.

Needless to say, Randy was excited. This would be his first out of state trip without family. And he was ready for it. Brad and Mark had been driving him absolutely crazy over the past few weeks.

Randy and his mom began to pack his luggage on board the bus on which Randy would be riding. It began to snow as he hugged his mom goodbye. She started to kiss him on the cheek, then realized what she was about to do, then she stopped.

'Bye Randy. I love you. I'll miss you' said Jill, fighting back tears.

'I'll miss you too mom. Your other sons, I can't say the same about' Randy said, trying to contain his excitement.

As Randy looked out the window of the bus, he saw his mom's car sitting there. It was the only one left that belonged to a parent who wasn't chaperoning. He knew this was hard for her. But he knew he had to put this all behind him, so he could enjoy his vacation to Missouri.

As Jill sat there in the Austin Healey, staring out of the window, watching her middle son start a journey of over 800 miles.

She was the only parent who was still there, but it was hard for her to leave. This was the first time one of her children would be out of state without her or Tim being there with them.

'It's just all part of him becoming a man, an adult, and becoming independent' she mumbled to no one in particular on her way home.

Eventually Jill just began thinking about other things. She decided if she thought positively, and didn't think about Randy too much, the nine days would just fly by. Yeah, that's what she'd do. Just think positive.

Jill had decided by the time she got home, she would just have a nice cup of peppermint tea and a bagel with fat free cream cheese, and enjoy her morning.

A/N: So, what does everyone think? I know the trip may be farfetched, but I've been looking for a way to incorporate my home state into a Home Improvement fan fiction. Please R&R, even if it's a bad review, I can only become a better writer from it. So, be brutally honest with me.


	2. Chapter 1: Snow Slide

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 1

The charter bus had left Detroit about five hours ago, and had been driving for about four when the snow started to pick up.

Nevertheless, the teacher who organized the trip insists we keep going.

We're just about to get out of Indiana (official state motto: Yawn.) and enter Illinois.

About a half a mile up ahead I can see the outline of a bridge, but I can't see the road due to snow accumulation. Geez, there must be about 8 inches of snow by now.

Now I can see a sign up by the bridge. It looks like some kind of detour sign or something. Yep, that's what it is. The bridge is out due to the snow.

So we take the detour route and about 10 minutes later, the bus driver stops the bus at a gas station. Great. The freaking bus driver doesn't know where she's going. Now I see her coming out with a map and a piece of paper that I guess has directions on it.

She gets back on the bus, and we're off again. Since I'm sitting up front, I can hear her talking to the trip organizer, Mr. Dillerd.

'Yeah, just keep an eye out for me on that side of the road J.C., and you on that side Thelma' the bus driver says to the two teachers up front.

'That guy at the Texaco said the freeway is very narrow, and if I veer off even a little bit, we'll be driving on ice' the bus driver says now.

A few more minutes pass by without much happening.

Then all of a sudden we (and I mean the seven people up front, counting the driver and the teachers) hear a sputtering noise, and can kind of feel the bus jumping a little bit.

'Shit' says the bus driver, thinking that no one can hear her.

'What's the matter?' asks Mrs. Goodshot (The woman formerly referred to as Thelma).

'The engine just died' replies the bus driver sounding frustrated.

'Out here?' says Mr. Dillerd in disbelief.

As if an engine can't die out in the middle of a highway with the nearest gas station 20 miles away.

'Just be quiet a minute. Let me call HQ and see what they can do.' the driver says.

Unfortunately I can't hear the conversation she has with headquarters.

But a few minutes later Mrs. Goodshot steps up to the front of the bus.

'Students, everything is going to be fine. There is another bus on the way to pick us up. We'll all just stay here on the bus until the other bus gets here' she says cheerily.

We wait for about half an hour until the other bus shows up. We all happily board the other bus, seeing as how it has heat.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully until we get to a few hundred feet away from the bridge that connects East St. Louis, Illinois and St. Louis Missouri.

Then all of a sudden a kid in the back vomits all over the aisle. The bus driver pulls over, and Mr. Dillerd says everyone will have to put on their coats and exit the bus until the vomit can be cleaned up.

Wow! This is amazing. It feels so cool (no pun intended) to be standing outside looking down on the Mighty Mississippi River in all of it's frozen glory and beauty. I decided to take a couple of steps closer.

As I took my last step closer, I stepped on a patch of black ice (it's just like normal ice, it's just very hard to see), and went sliding.

I felt terrified, but then realized that I couldn't be hurt that bad, after all, there are guard rails, so it's not like I would keep on sliding forever.

As I finished this thought, I felt my body hit up against the guard railing. My body lands so far up on the railing and at such an angle that I can feel myself starting to slide over the railing.

'Shit' I yell, even though I don't typically cuss.

I slide all the way over the railing before I can do anything to keep myself from falling off of it.

So I start sliding again, now truly terrified. What if I don't stop sliding on the snow? What if I slide all the way down onto the river? Surely someone will see me, I mean, it's not like people normally go out and walk on the Mississippi when it's frozen, right?

Then I suddenly don't feel snow anymore. I feel ice. Hard ice pressing up against my back. I can also tell that the ice is thin, it feels like it could give way any minute.

If the ice breaks, and I fall into the river with it being this cold, I'm doomed.

Then I feel the ice under the middle of my legs starting to crack.

A/N: I know, again the chapter was a little farfetched, but good I hope. I'll update more soon,

I just have to write more first. Of course I want you to R&R.

Oh, and if you have any ideas, PM me, and I'll definitely take them into consideration, and give you credit if I use them. Thanks.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor.


	3. Chapter 2: Trouble on the Mississippi

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 2

A/N: I thought I would wait to update this, but I'll give you all one last update for 3 or 4 days. (I'm not joking, this is the hardest story for me to write out of all 3 that I'm still writing).

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

Last time in Meet Me in St. Louie:

I slide all the way over the railing before I can do anything to keep myself from falling off of it.

So I start sliding again, now truly terrified. What if I don't stop sliding on the snow? What if I slide all the way down onto the river? Surely someone will see me, I mean, it's not like people normally go out and walk on the Mississippi when it's frozen, right?

Then I suddenly don't feel snow anymore. I feel ice. Hard ice pressing up against my back. I can also tell that the ice is thin, it feels like it could give way any minute.

If the ice breaks, and I fall into the river with it being this cold, I'm doomed.

Then I feel the ice under the middle of my legs starting to crack.

Now:

I knew I had to try to scoot away from the spot where the ice was breaking, but I had to do it carefully, so as not to put too much stress on the rest of the ice.

So I spread my legs and plant my feet on either side of the hole. Next I try to scoot back by pushing off of the ice with my feet. That causes more ice down there to break. Note to self: Don't do that again, even though I did get propelled back some.

Now I try to just scoot away from the ice on my butt. This will take longer, but hopefully it won't break the ice.

After a few minutes, it doesn't look like I've made much progress. It'll take me a couple of hours at this rate to get anywhere near the other side of the river.

The ice seems to be a little thicker in the middle, maybe I could try standing up now, that would certainly hurry things up.

So I do try to stand up. At first, it seems as if my idea was a good one. First I take one step, then another. Soon I've moved about maybe 5 feet from where I was when I stood up. Then I take another step. Damn it! My foot just broke through the ice.

I try to lift my foot through the hole. It doesn't work. I try again, this time trying to break through some of the ice around the small hole. That doesn't work either. My leg is stuck, so I can't move my foot up far enough to reach any of the ice.

This doesn't look good. If my foot stays down there too long, it'll freeze. The weather may be a little warmer here in Missouri/Illinois, but it still is only January.

Just now I realize that the sun will be setting soon. Sure, the teachers will know I'm missing, and they may even know I'm down here, but they won't necessarily know where to look.

I need to try to keep fighting the ice to free my foot. I pull, then pull again, but to no avail.

It seems like it's been hours since I got my foot stuck, but it can't have been more than 5 or 6 minutes.

Then I decide maybe I could try using my hand to chip away some of the ice.

I reach down, which is not an easy feat considering how I'm sitting, and start to pound on the ice with my fist. This works for a short time, but soon my hand starts to turn red, and a small bead of blood starts to trickle down my hand. I decide to stop when I see this.

I was able to chip away some ice, so I try to free my foot again. This time I manage to pull it out, but I don't like the sight that I see.

My shoe is gone, and my sock is frozen to my foot, and there is a small cut on my leg from the ice.

I return to my old method of scooting, which doesn't seem to stress the ice as much.

In about 50 minutes, I made it to the bottom of the banks of the Mississippi

Now I have a whole new set of problems. How do I get off of the river? The banks of the river are covered with about a foot of snow, and if I tried to scale the banks, I would most surely slide off.

But I have to try. I have on snow boots, so maybe if I step carefully, I can make it up the side of the hill.

So I begin climbing the banks.

The first step, my foot sinks down into the snow, which throws me off balance a little bit. The second step I expect this, so everything goes fine.

I continue to scale my way up the banks of the river. The more I climb, the steeper it gets.

I'm maybe 80 feet away from the top when I misjudge a step. Instead of stepping on snow, I stepped on a loose rock.

Then I fall back down the banks. Luckily I don't hit the river, but I did cut my stomach pretty bad. That's not good. I'm bleeding steadily now, and I have no place to go.

Now I feel like I'm going to pass out. Then everything goes black.

A/N: Another cliffhanger for everyone to enjoy. Thank you again Baxxie for your advice on which situation I should use. What would I do without you? And BTW, I will make sure I wait a few days to update just to keep everyone on the edge of their seats.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	4. Chapter 3: In for a Schocke

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 3

The next thing I know, I can hear two people talking.

'He was out there pretty long Hazel' says a man.

'Yes, I just hope that he'll be alright. You know, Schocke, for the first time in 35 years, I actually thought about seeking the attention of healthcare professionals' says the woman who must be Hazel.

I take this opportunity to open my eyes, hoping I didn't pick a bad time.

I look the two people over.

Hazel has long gray-white hair that comes down to the middle of her back, and is wearing a tie-dye sweatshirt and faded blue jeans.

Schocke also has long gray-white hair, only his is pulled up into a ponytail. He also has on a tie-dye sweater and faded blue jeans.

I also take a look around at this house, well cottage, I'm in.

It's a small place. The kitchen has a wood burning stove, and wood cabinets. There is a window above the sink, and a window behind the bed that I can't see, but I can feel a draft coming through. I can't see anymore than that though.

'Well looky here Schocke, the boy's awake' I hear Hazel say.

'Let me get ya some soup, sweetie' Hazel says politely.

I try not to think about how much this reminds me of mom when I'm sick.

Oh my God, mom!

She must be…wait... She probably doesn't even know that anything has happened to me. She probably thinks I'm in St. Louis right now, having a ball.

Oh my God. How will I be able to tell her.

'So son, what on earth were you doing on the Mighty Mississippi?' Schocke asks as Hazel brings me a bowl of soup that looks like…yuck! Chicken noodle soup. (Gag me).

I never did like chicken noodle soup before I became a vegetarian.

'Well sir, I'm not even from around here. I'm from Michigan actually. I'm here on a-' I get cut off mid-sentence by Hazel.

'Schocke, leave the boy alone and let him eat the soup' she scolds.

'I'm sorry, Mrs. Uh, I'm sorry, I don't know your name' I say apologetically.

'I'm Hazel Palmer, but you can just call me Hazel' she says.

'I'm sorry Hazel, but I'm a vegetarian, so I can't really eat this' I say as polite as I can.

'Oh that's fine sweetheart, we have some tomato soup over here you could have. You just need something to warm you up' says Hazel.

She then fetches another bowl and ladles some tomato soup into it, and takes my bowl from me.

'Anyways, like I was going to say, how did you get here to Missouri if you're from Michigan?' Schocke asks, pronouncing it the way I do, Miz-er-uh, instead of Miz-er-ee.

'Well, I was on a trip with some people from my school, and we were coming down here to St. Louis to see some sights for about a week' I explain.

'Oh Lordy son, you really have been out of it. This isn't St. Louis, we're in the suburb of a city called Columbia' Schock says, well, shocked.

'Well where's Columbia?' I ask.

'It's about two and a half hour from St. Louis' says Hazel.

'Two and a half hours?!' I exclaim.

'How did I wind up here even?' I ask.

'Well son, I guess maybe we should ask your name instead of just calling you sweetie or son, huh?' says Schocke.

'My name's Randy Taylor' I say.

'Well Randy, Hazel and I were on our annual ice fishing trip on the Mississippi, and yes, we know that isn't allowed, but no one's caught us for the past 30 years, so we still do it anyways. Anyways, we saw you, and heard your cries for help, so I skated over there to you, and brought you back to the boat' says Schocke.

'So, when will you all be driving me back to St. Louis?' I ask.

'Drive? No, Randy, we don't own a car. We just have one motorbike' says Schocke.

'You're kidding. Then how will I get to St. Louis? How will I get back to Michigan? How will I ever get back to my family?' I ask hurriedly.

'Now just calm down Randy. You know what I think works in times like this? Meditation. It's very simple to do' Hazel says.

'I don't want to meditate, I want to get to either St. Louis or to Detroit, not be stranded out here in Louisiana or whatever' I say, getting flustered now.

'Hey now, this isn't Louisiana, that's not around here, that's up in Northern Missouri, by Hannibal and where you can cross over into Illinois' says Schocke, rather offended.

'Calm down Schocke, he doesn't know better, he's not from around here' says Hazel warningly.

'Still, how will I get out of here?' I persist.

'Well, you could take a cab. We'd have to drive you in town though to use a telephone' Hazel says.

'Yeah, and I could chop off a foot to pay for the cab fare too' I say, not that jokingly.

This gets nervous looks from Hazel and Schocke.

For the first time, I notice that my foot's asleep. I move my legs to where there hanging off of the bed, then I'm met with a feeling of pure terror. My right foot is missing!

Now I start to panic. What the hell else is missing from me? A kidney, or maybe some other organ.

Hazel and Schocke see the horror in my eyes.

'We had to amputate your foot, Randy. It was completely blue by the time we got home. Don't worry, I don't think you felt anything' Hazel says.

'So about that cab, when can we call one?' I ask, wanting to get the hell out of here as fast as humanly possible.

'Well, you'll have to wait until tomorrow morning, its 10:00 now' Schocke says, glancing at a clock on the wall.

'Okay, so, what time can we call a cab tomorrow?' I ask, trying not to sound rude.

'Around 10:30. The cab place is open before then, but neither one of us will be up and have you there before then. I was going to ask you too, do you have any money so you can pay the fare. I just wasn't sure after the foot comment and all' says Hazel.

'Umm, yeah. I have enough money to get me to St. Louis. What day is this by the way?' I say, then ask.

'Oh, the 26th' says Schocke.

'You've been out a while' Hazel adds.

'Good then. I can still make it home with the rest of the people from school' I say, glad something is finally going my way.

'Randy, dear, this is _February_ 26th' says Hazel.

'Damn it!' I mumble.

'So I guess I'll just figure something out after I run out of money' I say.

'We're truly sorry, we wish we could help you with your journey home, but there's no way we possibly can' says Schocke.

'Just try to get some rest, alright? Tomorrow will be a better day' Hazel says with a beaming smile.

What hippies. Next thing you know, they'll be giving me "love grass" to smoke, and making me listen to Peter, Paul, and Mary.

Actually, that doesn't sound half bad. The Peter, Paul, and Mary part, not the "love grass".

Maybe Hazel's right. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe I just need some rest.

Yeah, I'll just get some rest, then get up bright and early tomorrow.

I guess from Illinois on I'll just have to either walk or hitchhike.

That reminds me of a Creedence Clearwater Revival song. (Sweet Hitchhiker).

Wow. I really am tired.

I get shivers up my spine though whenever I close my eyes, just from the experience of passing out on the Mississippi River.

But I still manage to somehow sleep.

A/N: So, what will happen with Randy? Will he be able to make it back to Michigan?

BTW, I hope no readers out there take offense to the hippie couple.

I have no idea where I came up with the name Schocke, I just needed a kind of off the wall name.

As always, please R&R.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor.


	5. Chapter 4: On the Road Again

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 4

'Randy, you really should eat something. At least a piece of toast' says Hazel.

'Or maybe drink a glass of orange juice' offers Schocke.

'No, I don't have much of an appetite in mornings usually. But thanks anyways' I say politely.

Neither Schocke nor Hazel have a reply to this remark, probably because there's no real reply to something like that.

After they eat their breakfast of oatmeal, bacon, and toast, Schocke goes into what I assume is their bedroom and gets a black leather jacket, black leather gloves (good God, how many cows had to die so this guy can ride a motorcycle?), and a white helmet that has the BMW logo on the forehead of it.

'Randy, I hope you're ready for the ride, the wind's kind of mean out today' Schocke says.

'Yeah, I hope I am too. I've never ridden a motorcycle before' I say.

'Oh it's easy as ice. You just hold on and let ol' Schocke do the steering' says Hazel, as if it really was as easy as…ice? I've never heard that expression before.

'Now, you'll have to wear Hazel's helmet, since the government here in Missouri thinks people need to where a damn helmet just to ride a motorbike' says Schocke rather bitterly.

So I hobble outside on wooden crutches that Schocke carved for me, and look at the motorcycle on which we'll be making our journey. I know next to nothing about motorcycles, so I have no idea what kind it is, or even how safe it is.

'It'll take about 15 minutes to get to the gas station. There you can call a cab, and I'll make sure you get off on your way' Schocke says.

I wait for Schocke to get on the motorcycle. Then I awkwardly board it, not knowing if I even boarded properly.

'Hang on now Randy! I'm gonna start her up, then we'll be off!' Schocke shouts over the wind. At the end, his words are drowned out by the roar of the motorcycle coming to life.

Pulling out of the driveway to the cottage, the ride seems somewhat smooth, and I think I may be able to tolerate it for 15 minutes.

But then we hit the highway, and Schocke accelerates. The roads don't look bumpy, but on a motorcycle, they are extremely bumpy. (In fact, these Missouri roads look better than Michigan roads).

The wind doesn't help make the ride any more tolerable.

Schocke does hit the occasional pothole though, and whenever he does, I nearly get thrown from the bike.

I can hear Schocke shouting something.

He's either saying "we're almost there" or "would you like some hair".

My guess is it's the first. (But Schocke is a textbook hippie, so you never know).

My hunch was correct, a few minutes later we arrive at a Break Time gas station.

Schocke pulls the bike up to a parking spot, and hops off, almost causing me to fall off.

'Go inside, and make your call to your parents and to get yourself a cab' Schocke says.

'Okay' I say, walking (hobbling) towards the gas station.

I get inside, and find the phone.

First I try calling home, to let everyone know what's happened. I just get a busy signal.

I curse the busy signal as I hang up.

Next I check the phone book for a cab service number. I find one that covers the entire state of Missouri, and looks like it has reasonable rates.

I check the number. 555-1181.

Once I put in the money, I dial the numbers, and wait for an answer.

'Hello, Cheery Trails Cab Service, how may I help you?' answers a syrupy sweet voice that a two year old could tell is fake.

'Uh, yeah. I am at a Break Time gas station on Providence Road in Columbia, Missouri' I say, trying my best to sound cheery, but don't come even close to the amount of cheer the woman on the other end of the line has.

'Okay sir. And how far will you be riding our cab?' asks Ms. Cheery Voice.

'Um. I'll be riding it as far as it can go towards Illinois' I answer, mustering every ounce of cheer I possibly can.

'Okay, we'll have a cab there for you in 10 minutes. Thank you for calling Cheery Trails Cab Service, and have a Cheery day sir' Ms. Cheery Voice says.

I head outside to tell Schocke the good news, and to thank him for everything him and Hazel have done.

I can see him standing by the bike, smoking something that looks like a cigarette, but produces green smoke. I try not to inhale as I approach.

'There's a cab on its way. I just wanted to thank you for everything you and Hazel have done for me' I say gratefully.

'Oh, it's not a problem Randy. It was our pleasure to take care of you. Good luck on your journey' Schocke says.

Schocke then boards his motorcycle, and revs up the engine.

I watch him pull away.

As I stand there, I can't help but think that this is all too easy. I mean, I'll get in a cab, ride to St. Louis, and then keep trying to call home, and get someone to come and get me.

I see my cab pull up, and get in.

A/N: It may seem as if Randy's journey will be simple now, but it won't be. The poor kid still has some tough times ahead of him. Thanks for reading, and please R&R.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

P.S. I know this chapter was short, but I didn't want to go any further until the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 5: Where the Hell Am I?

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 5

It took about two and a half hours to get to St. Louis.

Right now, I'm at a gas station, getting ready to call home.

On my first attempt, I'm overzealous and forget to dial the area code.

My next attempt is successful.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Come on! Somebody answer the damn phone! Five, now six rings. Yes! Somebody answers.

'Hello, Taylor residence' says dad. His voice has never sounded so good before.

'Dad, it's me!' I shout, attracting glances from other people in the gas station.

'Randy, where the hell are you?' dad demands.

'I'm stuck in St. Louis' I reply, barely containing my excitement. I can't believe it! Someone finally knows where I am! I can get home now!

'How did you manage to get stranded in St. Louis? And why haven't you called before now?' dad questions.

'It's a long story. Can you come and get me?' I ask, without even bothering to say where exactly I am in St. Louis.

'Yeah, I'll leave right after I talk to you. Where are you?' he says.

'Uh, I'm not sure. Let me ask real quick' I say.

I look at the woman standing behind the counter.

'Excuse me, miss?' I begin. 'Where exactly am I?' I ask.

I expect an answer like "Missouri" or "St. Louis", at least that's the type of answer I would get in Michigan. But, she gives me a real answer.

'2323 South Jefferson Avenue' replies the woman.

'I'm at a Conoco gas station on 2323 South Jefferson Avenue' I tell dad.

'Okay. It'll obviously take me a while to get there, so I want you to find a hotel near by, and I'll put you up in a room, so you don't have to hang around like you're homeless' he says.

'So, do you want me to call back if I find one?' I ask.

'Yeah. Tell me the address and I'll book you a room. Walk over there, and by then the room should be booked' dad says.

'Okay, I'll call back in a bit. Bye' I say.

Now I hobble over to the counter.

'Excuse me, Tabitha' I say, reading the lady's nametag. 'Do you by chance know if there's a hotel near by?' I inquire.

'Yeah, there's a Holiday Inn Express that my uncle manages about a half mile away. You can step outside and see the sign. You can't miss it. The address is 2625 Lafayette Avenue' Tabitha says.

'Thank you' I say.

'My shift ends in 10 minutes. I could drive you over there if you like' offers Tabitha.

'Sure. I just have to call my dad back' I say.

I dial the numbers, remembering the area code this time.

'Hey dad, there's a Holiday Inn Express on 2625 Lafayette Avenue. It's only about a half a mile from where I am now' I say.

'Alright, I'll book the room. Now listen, I want you to stay there until I get there. Don't leave even to walk across the street. St. Louis is a big city, and you can get lost easily' dad instructs.

Yeah, fat chance I'll walk across the street.

'Okay, so I'll see you when you get here?' I ask.

'Yeah. Here, your mom wants to say something to you' dad says, sounding annoyed.

'Hi sweetie' mom says.

'Hi mom' I say sheepishly.

'How the hell did you manage to get yourself stranded in St. Louis? And why did it take you so long to call us?' she asks. Either she didn't hear dad ask these questions, or she thinks that they need to be asked again.

'It's a long, long story' I say.

'Tell your dad when he gets there then' she instructs.

'Alright, I will' I reply.

'Bye. I'll see you when we get to Michigan' I say.

I limp over to a display of Budweiser crates. I sit down, and lay my crutches on either side of me.

'I just have to wait for Kyle to come in, then I can leave' Tabitha says.

'Okay' I reply.

'By the way, why are you using crutches, if you don't mind my asking?' she asks.

'It's a little personal. I'd rather not say why' I state, hoping she doesn't notice my right leg all that well. If she does notice it, she doesn't say anything, and doesn't press the matter of the crutches any further.

So I sit there on the Budweiser crates, next to a statue of the Budweiser Clydesdales pulling a beer wagon.

Finally after 10 minutes of waiting, the guy named Kyle walks in.

'Are you ready to go Randy? My car's out back, but I could pull it around for you' Tabitha says.

'No, I'll walk back there' I respond.

'Are you sure?' she asks.

'Positive' I say, trying not to sound harsh or bitter.

I head out the door, and make my way to the back of the gas station.

I get in the car, which is no small feat, considering she drives a Chevy Suburban.

She drops me off at the front door of the hotel, and offers to help me inside. I refuse the offer, as I have the past ones. I may be missing a foot, but damn it, I can still do some things for myself.

I enter the hotel, as Tabitha sits there to make sure I get in okay.

Once inside, I walk up to the front desk.

'Can I help you?' asks the man sitting there.

'Yeah, I'm Randy Taylor. My dad should've just called here and reserved a room' I say.

'Yes. He said you'd be in. Here's the card key to your room' says the man sourly.

'Thanks a lot' I say. It came off sounding smart-alecky, but was meant to be sincere.

I looked at the room number on the card key. Thanks a lot dad, you got me a room on the third floor.

I hopped over to the elevator, and pressed the button with the arrow pointing up.

I manage to hobble onto the elevator, and I press 3 once I've boarded.

The elevator stops, and I get off.

Of course, as luck would have it, my room is all the way on the other end of the hall.

Once I reach the room, I prop one crutch up against the wall, and insert the card key into the slot on the door handle. The light turns green, so I turn the handle. The door opens.

I grab my crutch, and head inside.

Then I close the door, flip on the lights, and lay back on the bed.

All of a sudden, I'm hit with a strong sensation.

Then I realize that I haven't been to the restroom in three or four hours. Sitting up, I decide to remedy the situation.

A/N: I only included that last part because this chapter wasn't really funny, so I figured I'd give everyone at least one laugh.

So now Tim is coming to get Randy. What can go wrong? Well, with Tim Taylor involved, just about anything. But I don't want to ruin too much for anybody.

Just keep reading and reviewing, and I'll keep this story going.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	7. Chapter 6: The Hotel Life

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 6

Even though I'm tired, I still haven't slept any since yesterday. Actually, now, that would be two days ago. Every time I close my eyes, I still get goose bumps and shivers up my spine.

Right now I'm sitting on the bed watching Wild America. I know this sounds a little gay, but Jonathan Taylor Thomas is my all time favorite actor. He's just so damn cool. I wish I could be him just for one day.

Don't get me wrong, Scott Bairstow and Devon Sawa have great performances in Wild America too, but nobody can come even remotely close to Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

I think I might pause the movie, and see what room service has on their menu.

Let's see here…

Slices of pepperoni pizza (yuck!)

Cherry, Lime, or Grape Jello (maybe…)

Vanilla, chocolate, or butterscotch pudding (sounds good)

Tomato soup (nah)

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich (They probably use some off brand peanut butter, so no, since the only brand of peanut butter I eat is Peter Pan)

Pudding it is then.

I pick up the receiver, and dial the indicated number for room service.

'Room service, what'll it be?' asks a woman who sounds rather disgruntled.

'Uh, I'll have two orders of your butterscotch pudding please' I say, sounding a bit intimidated by the woman.

'Sure thing kid, what's the room number?' inquires the woman.

'Room 333' I reply.

'It'll be up in a jiffy' responds the woman.

I un-pause my movie, and struggle, but finally make it to the door.

By the time I'm there, I can hear a knock.

'Room service' declares a man's voice.

I open the door, take the pudding, and tip the man with a five dollar bill.

I close the door, then hobble back to the bed.

As I sit there watching Wild America and eating my pudding, I have an odd mix of emotions.

It feels kind of cool to be free, and away from the prying eyes of mom and dad. But at the same time, it gives me a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat to think that I'm this far away from anything and everything that I've ever known in my life. Oh well, dad will be here soon to get me.

I'm amazed at how much has happened to me in the past 5 weeks. A simple school trip to St. Louis, Missouri turns into all of this. From sliding on the frozen Mississippi River, to having a foot chopped off, to meeting a nice hippie couple, whom I honestly hope I never run into again.

Even after all I've been through, I think I like Missouri maybe even a little better than Michigan. The general public is a lot nicer, the roads are a hell of a lot better, and it's a lot warmer too. Maybe I'll move here someday. Maybe.

But for now, I can't wait to get the hell out of here, and back to Michigan.

I'm even starting to kind of miss Brad and Mark. I did say kind of.

As Wild America ends, I debate on what I want to watch next. After a long, hard debate of all of 15 seconds, I decide to just watch Wild America again. (Hey, I said I'm absolutely crazy for Jonathan Taylor Thomas).

I sit there for about an hour, then the phone rings.

'Hello, is David Grahame there?' asks the voice.

'No, you have a wrong number sir' I politely respond.

'Well is this 555-3628?' asks the man.

'Yes, but there is no David Grahame here. It's just me' I say.

'Yeah, okay. Sorry about that' the man says.

A few minutes later, the phone rings again.

'Hi, is David Grahame available?' asks the same man I just got off the phone with.

'Sir, this is the same person you just got off the phone with. You obviously have the wrong number, or you're misdialing' I state.

'No I don't, this is the number for David Grahame's house' says the man a little aggressively.

'Sir, this is a phone to a room in a Holiday Inn. Now if you call here again, I'm going to call the police and file a complaint' I threaten.

'Goddamn it, I know this is David Grahame's house. Now where the hell is David?' yells the man.

'Sir, I'm not even from Missouri. I'm from Michigan, alright? I don't know a soul here in Missouri' I say truthfully.

'Don't give me that bullshit, you know where Dave Grahame is, and I want you to tell me right now' the man screams at the top of his lungs.

'I'm hanging up now to call the police' I say with an air of upper handedness.

'Sure kid, whatever. But the police will just want to know what the fuck you've done with David. You'd save yourself a lot of trouble if you'd just tell me what happened and where he is' the man says.

To this, I just hang up. I take a moment to catch my breath, then grab the phone book and look for the local police department's phone number.

555-3947.

I dial the numbers, and wait for an answer.

'Hello, St. Louis Police Department, how may I help you?' asks an elderly sounding man.

'Yeah, I'm staying at a Holiday Inn on 2625 Lafayette Avenue, and I've been receiving harassing phone calls' I say.

'And what room number are you staying in?' asks the desk sergeant.

'Number 333' I answer.

'Okay, has the caller threatened you yet?' inquires the desk sergeant.

'No, but he seems to think I've done something with some man named David Grahame' I respond.

'Okay, well, we can't do anything unless the man threatens to physically harm you. If he does, then just give us a call back, and we'll send a uniform down there' says the man.

I lay back down on the bed, and notice that Wild America is now only about half an hour from the end.

I could rewind, but decide not to.

All of a sudden the phone rings. I pick up the phone, and listen for the voice of the caller. It's the same man who's desperately seeking David Grahame. I push down the little button on the top of the phone that basically does the same thing as hanging up, and place the receiver back on the hook.

Now all I can do is just sit here and wait for dad to call. Then I can be on my way home. And I can see the first familiar face in over a month.

God it'll be good to go home again.

A/N: I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but I needed Randy to pass time somehow.

My new goal is to try to mention Jonathan Taylor Thomas in every one of my stories.

Anyways, next chapter there'll be a lot of angst and tragedy and drama and all that stuff. I promise.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	8. Chapter 7: Hatred in an Elevator

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 7

Okay, now I'm starting to get a little worried. Dad should've called by now. He should be here by now. Unless he got lost.

I glance over at the alarm clock on the nightstand by the bed. 2:34 it declares in all of its bold and bright redness.

Dad should've called an hour and a half ago.

Oh well, he probably just went to some Wal-Mart parking lot or something to sleep. It is a long drive after all, plus he's driving so late. Yeah, that's probably what happened.

All of a sudden, the phone starts ringing. Strike that, the phone has been ringing. I look over at the alarm clock in the process of picking up the phone. 5:26. I look outside and I can see some light.

'Hello' I answer, still in a bit of a sleepy haze.

'Hey, Randy. I'm almost to St. Louis. Sorry it took so long, but I got lost. Wound up going through this great little town down south of St. Louis, called Mexico. I tell you what, those people there are so nice and helpful' dad says, sounding like he's been drinking coffee by the gallon.

'So how far away are you from St. Louis? Just about 10 minutes. So get your things and get ready to go' he says.

'Uh dad, I don't have anything to take with me except myself. I'll tell you more about it once you get here' I say kind of nervously.

'Okay. I'll pull up right next to the doors. I'm in the Mustang by the way' says dad.

'Alright, I'll see you then' I say.

I grab the card key off the table, and hobble down the hall to the elevator, and push the button with the arrow pointing down.

The elevator arrives quickly, since it _is_ 5:30 in the morning.

I literally hop on, and push the 1 button. Now the screen at the top shows that I'm on the second floor. Then all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a jolting stop. I figure that this means I'm downstairs now, so I push the button to open the doors. Nothing happens.

'Damn it' I mumble.

So I press the "emergency button". You know, the one that lets you talk with someone if the elevator stops.

All it does is make a static sound.

'Damn it' I say a bit louder now.

Think. Think. What can I do? I'm stuck between floors on an elevator in a hotel. What can I do?

Does anyone even know that the elevator has stopped? Does anyone know that I'm on here? I doubt it.

Sure dad will be here in a few minutes, but how long will it take for them to find me?

I decide to try to press the emergency button again.

This time I can hear voices, but the static is still more dominant than anything.

'Help! I'm stuck in an elevator! It stopped moving between the first and second floors!' I scream at the top of my lungs, hoping that one of the voices can hear me.

I can hear someone saying something, but can't make out what it is.

I check my watch now, and see that it's 5:45. Well, at least dad should be here now. But that still doesn't mean anyone will find me yet. They'll check my room, and the stairwells, and the hallways first. No one will think to check the elevators as anything other than a last resort.

'Damn it. Damn that school trip, damn those teachers who just wouldn't turn back, and damn the snow and ice, damn those hippie people for chopping off my foot, damn this stupid hotel for not having good elevators, damn the elevator, just damn it all' I sit there and say to myself.

I'm starting to sweat now. I can't believe it, I'm sweating in February.

I try the emergency button again. I shout basically the same message into the little speaker, but no one replies at first.

'Hello, is there someone trapped in an elevator?' asks a voice.

'Yes!' I scream into the little box.

Silence.

'Hello, is there anyone in there?' the voice asks again.

Damn it. I guess I can hear people trying to contact me, but they can't hear me. Fuck! This is not good.

Then I hear the voice again. Maybe that's it, maybe the voice is just a figment of my imagination.

'If there is someone trapped in an elevator, we are trying to get them running again. It will take at least 40 minutes' the voice announces.

40 minutes! I look at my watch. 6:10.

Why the hell did I even come on this trip anyways? Why didn't I talk dad into chaperoning?

Listen to me. I'm really starting to lose it now. I can't believe I'm actually wishing that my dad, Tim "the Toolman" Taylor, would chaperone a trip. The teachers probably wouldn't let him.

It's amazing how 40 minutes in an elevator can seem like 40 years.

* * *

Tim's POV

I pull up to the Holiday Inn, but don't see Randy anywhere. Maybe he's having problems getting checked out, I think, so I head inside.

There's no one at the front desk. (No customers I mean).

'Excuse me sir, have you seen my son down here today?' I ask a man at the front desk who looks oddly familiar.

'No, I haven't seen anyone down here since last night' the man says.

'Well my son was supposed to be down here, waiting for me' I say.

'Well, if you could give me your credit card number, I could let you get a key to check his room' the man says.

'Alright' I say, then proceed to give him the credit card number.

'By the way, what's your name, sir?' I ask.

'Ed' answers the man.

'Are you related to Ted, Ned, or Fred?' I inquire.

'Yes. I hope they didn't treat you badly when you met them' Ed replies.

Before I have time to answer that they were complete jerks to me, he hands me the card key to Randy's room, and I'm on my way.

I run up the stairs two at a time, and get to room 333 in what has to be a record time. I open the door, and I can tell immediately that he's not there. All the lights are turned off, and the blinds are drawn.

So I start running through all of the halls and the stairwells. I can't find him anywhere.

It's then that I realize that I saw a sign early saying that the elevators were out of order.

I run down to the lobby and right to the front desk.

'Ed, how long have the elevators been out of order?' I ask.

'Only since about 5 minutes before you got here' Ed replies.

'Shit. That's where my son is. He's stuck in one of the damn elevators. We have to get him out!' I scream

'Just calm down, we have a crew coming now to work on the elevators. It should only take about an hour until he's free' Ed replies in a monotone voice.

'An hour?! That's a joke. Can't it be done any faster than that?' I ask, even though I know that an hour is a relatively small amount of time to fix something like that.

'Sir, just calm down. I think I know now why Ned and Ted and Fred were so mean to you' says Ed.

'How am I supposed to calm down when my middle son is stuck in an elevator?' I ask.

'I don't know. I'm just supposed to tell you to calm down. It's in the training manual for this job' Ed answers.

I roll my eyes at this.

'So what do I do for the next hour then?' I ask.

'Well, we do have a free breakfast bar, with 10 different kinds of sausage' Ed offers.

I debate this for a minute.

'No, I really should wait here for Randy' I state.

Although one sausage wouldn't be so bad. Yeah, maybe I can get some juice for Randy. I'm sure he'll be thirsty after being imprisoned in the elevator.

'I'll be right back Ed. Let me know if the elevators start working again' I say, walking towards the counter that has all of the breakfast on it.

Poor Randy. So much has happened to that poor kid. I still would like to know how the hell he managed to get stranded here in Missouri, and why he waited a month to call us.

A/N: Will Randy make it out of the elevator? Will he and Tim make it home to Michigan? Keep reading and reviewing to find out.

Also, I know that some of the elevator stuff may seem unrealistic, but remember, this a work of fiction.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	9. Chapter 8: Hell on Ropes

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 8

Randy's POV

I'm sitting with my back up against the doors of the elevator when I'm jolted up against the opposite wall.

'Damn it' I say, cursing the elevator for moving and tossing me up against the wall.

Then I realized what I was cursing.

Yes!! The elevator is moving again! Oh, thank God. I'm ready to just get the hell out of Missouri. It's a nice state and all that, and maybe I'll even come back someday, but for now I just want to get back Michigan and get back to my old life.

I just realized something. The elevator is moving up! Damn it! Well, okay, I'll just go back upstairs and take the stairs back down.

Okay, now we're at the second floor. Now we're past it.

The elevator's stopped again now. Okay, why aren't the doors opening?

I dare myself to check the monitor that displays what floor the elevator is on. It isn't on 2, and it isn't on 3. Fuck!

Can my luck get any worse?

I decide to try the help button again, thinking maybe there's a slim chance that it's working now.

When I push the button, all I can hear is static.

Now I walk over to the doors, and just decide to punch the doors, if nothing else just to let off some steam.

When I do that, the elevator starts moving again, this time going down. Okay, maybe my luck _is _changing. Either that, or I'm going to spend the rest of my life traveling up and down between the 1st and 3rd floors of this Holiday Inn.

We're past the second floor now. I have my fingers crossed. Actually, I think I have just about everything that can cross crossed.

Okay, I'm still going, I have to be getting close to the first floor.

Now the elevator is slowing down, and lurching. Damn it! It just stopped. But the doors are opening now.

Holy hell. I can look down and see the first floor.

I take this opportunity to alert everyone of my situation by screaming 'HELP!'

'Randy?' yells dad up at me.

It must be about 20, 25 feet down.

'Dad! What should I do?' I yell back down.

'Just stay put. Someone will be up there in a minute to come and get you. Heck, I could come up there. I'd have that elevator working in 5 minutes. That's not a bad idea' dad says.

Then dad does something that usually only happens in my worst nightmares. He begins climbing to where the workers are working on.

'Don't worry, I do this kind of thing for a living' I can hear him saying to someone.

A few minutes later, I can hear dad holler something about him being finished working on the elevator. Then the elevator comes to life. The doors don't close, but the elevator starts whizzing up to the top of the building. I grab a hold of the railing at the back of the elevator, and try not to look out the doors.

I manage to sneak one peek, and it isn't a pretty sight, watching the innards of an elevator system go whizzing by you.

In a matter of seconds, the elevator reaches what I assume is the highest it can go, and in the process of stopping tosses me dangerously close to the edge of the still open doors, which are now probably less than 5 feet below the 3rd floor.

It doesn't take much debate for me to decide that I need to take this opportunity to get the hell off the elevator.

So I move over to the edge of the doors, just praying that the elevator doesn't start again. If it does, I'm a goner. Luckily, it doesn't. So I reach up with both of my hands, and try to grab a hold of the floor, hoping to be able to pull myself up. This doesn't work, goddamn my shortness.

Time to revise the plan. I'll go over there and assume the same position, but jump up, which won't be an easy feat with only one foot, then grab the floor and pull myself up.

I walk back over to the edge of the elevator doors, and using all of my momentum, jump up with my hands outstretched.

Jackpot! It works, and I've now managed to grab on to the floor.

'Hey dad, there's somebody's hands over there!' I can hear a kid's voice yell.

'No there isn't' replies a man skeptically.

'I'm serious dad, there's somebody's hands over there' the kid says back.

'Okay, we'll go over there and I'll show you that there's no hands over there' replies the dad.

'Holy hell, you're right. Christian, take the stairs back down, and tell the man at the front desk that there's someone caught on there elevators' the man instructs.

'Excuse me, can I help you?' the man yells down in my general direction.

'Yes. Help me up onto that floor. I've been stuck on this elevator for over an hour now' I yell back.

'Sure thing. I'm going to grab your hand now, alright?' he asks.

'Yeah' I say, as if I have much choice.

'Okay, I'm going to grab your other hand now, then I'm going to try to lift you up' says the man.

'Hey sir, that's my son there. Let me help you out pal' I can hear dad say.

'Randy, just hang on. We're going to get you out of this mess' says dad.

I sort of scale the wall with my one foot while dad and the man pull me up.

This is unbelievable. This day, this entire trip. All just unbelievable.

I finally make it up to the top of the floor, then I just lay there panting for a couple of minutes.

Then I get up, and follow dad downstairs.

Thank God we're going home. What could go wrong now?

'Where'd you get those crutches, and why are you limping?' asks dad on the way downstairs.

'It's a looong story' I say with a sigh.

A/N: Poor Randy, what could go wrong now? Oh, with me as the author, and Tim as the operator of a motor vehicle, just about anything and everything. But I don't want to give a way too much of what will happen.

As always, please read and review if you want more of this story.

Thanks for reading.

BTW, the reason I'm doing a mass update of my stories is today I have to have surgery performed on my nose, so I won't feel like writing or updating for at least a week, probably closer to two.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	10. Chapter 9: A Crashing Blow

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 9

'Where'd you get those crutches, and why are you limping?' asks dad on the way downstairs.

'It's a looong story' I say with a sigh.

'So tell me. We have 8 hours until we get to Michigan. Assuming you don't want to pass through any place else in Missouri, like I did' dad says, looking at me as if he was asking a serious question.

'It all started back at the Mississippi River when some kid threw up on the bus. Everyone had to get off the bus until the bus driver had the mess cleaned up. I walked over a little closer to the guard railing so I could get a better look at the river. I stepped on a patch of black ice, and went sliding. I slide over the guard railing, and kept sliding until I reached the river' I start. I can tell that dad's already deeply engaged in the story.

'Then the ice where I was laying started to break, so I wound up sliding over to the other side of the river. Along the way, my right foot punctures the ice, and gets trapped in the water for about 10 minutes. I managed to get the foot free, then tried to scale the banks of the river on the opposite side. That worked for a small time, but eventually I wound up sliding down the banks, and cut up my stomach pretty bad. The loss of blood causes me to pass out' I recount.

We're just about to pull out of the Holiday Inn parking lot now.

'Continue' dad instructs when I pause, if nothing else for breath.

'When I regain consciousness, I'm in this cabin in someplace called Columbia. Apparently this hippie couple, Schocke and Hazel, were on the Mississippi ice fishing, and they rescued me. But they couldn't save my foot apparently. They had to amputate it, which is why I have the crutches. Schocke carved them for me. The reason it took me so long to call is I didn't regain full consciousness until February 26th. Then I had to drive into town and call a cab. I tried to call home, but the phone was busy. The cab took me to St. Louis, which is when I called home again, and I got you' I say, once again out of breath.

'So I guess we'll have to get you some kind of prosthetic then?' dad asks.

'No, they just chopped off my foot' I reply.

'Hmm. There must be something we can do though so you don't go through life footless' says dad with a smile.

Now we're driving through a neighborhood in East St. Louis.

'Yeah. I would like to be able to actually walk down the aisle on my wedding day rather than hob- Dad, watch out for that car!!' I yell.

But it's too late. The car runs into dad's side of the Mustang. Then the other car goes speeding off, peeling out on the way.

'Dad! Dad, can you hear me?!' I ask, yelling in the high octave my voice takes on when I get stressed or nervous.

He doesn't respond. Then I notice that the side of his head is bleeding pretty badly.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, and jump out of the car, and run up the sidewalk to the first house I see.

I start pounding on the door, and a man with gray-black hair wearing a black long sleeve shirt and blue jeans opens the door.

'What's the matter?' the man asks in what sounds kind of like a smoker's voice.

'Someone just hit the car I was riding in. I'm fine, but my dad isn't. His head is all cut up and bleeding really badly' I shout hastily.

'Okay, come on. I'm going to pull my car out, and we'll get your dad out of the car and take him to an emergency room. I just need to get my keys' the man replies.

I can hear him holler to someone who I assume is his wife 'Judy, there was a wreck and I'm taking someone to the hospital. I'm not sure when I'll be back'.

The man backs his car out of the garage, and then pulls it up right next to the Mustang.

He then opens up the Mustang's driver side door, and unbuckles my dad.

'Kid, you're gonna have to help me get your dad out. I used to play baseball along time ago, but that was the sixties' the man states.

I go over and help the man carry dad to the backseat of the man's car. (Which is a Thunderbird).

Well, dad would be happy to know he's going to the hospital in a classic car.

We lay him in the backseat. I get in the back as well to sit with him.

'Please be alright dad' I whisper through tears.

* * *

A/N: I know this is a short chapter, but a good one I hope.

It seems like no matter how hard I try to keep medicine out of my Home Improvement stories, I just can't do it.

Please read and review if you want to know what will happen to Tim.

Oh, and I know the man could have easily called an ambulance, but it's more fun to write it like this.

-Yours truly, (Wannabe) Dr. Randy Taylor

* * *

A/N from 5/30/08: I hope this doesn't seem too wacky or out there or unrealistic, because I wrote this completely doped up on Tylenol 3.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	11. Chapter 10: Lies

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 10

We're at the hospital now. Dad is back in the trauma room, and I'm working my way through all of the red tape.

The doctor spoke with me briefly. She (Dr. Weaver) said that my dad has several severe lacerations on the side of his head. He's lucky though; apparently one laceration missed his carotid artery by mere centimeters. He also has a mild concussion from his head banging up against the steering wheel, and a small cut on his abdomen from the seat belt.

Me, I just have a small cut on my lower stomach from the seatbelt. It isn't bad, and hasn't bled too bad though, so I haven't said anything about it to anyone.

What is my dad's social security number? Hell, I don't know. What does his social security number have to do with his medical treatment?

I let out a huge sigh of frustration.

'Ah, don't worry about those things kid, they just give you all those papers to keep you from worrying' the man, who has introduced himself as Mike, says.

'Yeah, well what ever happened to Prozac?' I ask sarcastically. The man just laughs at that.

I finish filling out the rest of the information that I know, and take the clipboard up to the receptionist.

When I get back to the chair where I'm waiting, my butt barely has a chance to touch the seat before I see Dr. Weaver coming out to chairs.

'Mr. Taylor, could I speak with you in private for a moment?' she asks. I get up and follow her to a bed that seems to lie on the other side of the Pacific. When we get to the bed, I can see dad laying in the bed, hooked up to some machines. The only one I recognize is the IV machine.

'Your father is a very lucky man. He'll be fine in a couple of weeks. But he'll have to stay here in the hospital for a week' Dr. Weaver says. Before I have a chance to respond, she continues 'Do you have any family here in Missouri or Illinois?'

'No, the rest of his family is in Michigan' I reply.

'Oh? I hope this isn't too personal of a question, but are your parents separated or divorced?' asks the doctor.

'No. It's kind of a long story. I came to St. Louis back in January for a school trip, and some things happened, long story short, my dad wound up driving here from Michigan to take me back home, then we got in that car accident now' I explain, trying not to snap back 'it's none of your damn business whether my parents are divorced'.

'You'll need to call someone to come here and stay with you and your father' Dr. Weaver instructs.

'Okay. Where can I find a payphone?' I inquire.

'There's one out in chairs' she replies. I guess I was so distracted before that I didn't notice it.

I try to navigate my way through the maze of hospital beds, exam rooms, store rooms, and crash carts, but fail. I find a desk of some sort (that turns out to be the nurses' station) and ask for directions.

'Just take a left up there, and keep walking straight. Then you'll be there' answers the nurse who I ask.

I do as I'm told, and sure enough, I make it back to chairs.

'Did you get lost?' asks Mike, chuckling, when I get back.

'Actually, yes. I have to call my mom in Michigan so she can come down here' I tell him.

'Oh, just a minute. Let me get you some money for the phone' Mike says, probing his pockets for change.

'That's alright, I have my own money' I assure him.

'No, I insist' Mike responds simply.

He finally finds the right amount of change, and hands it to me. I then walk over to the payphone, and begin dialing numbers.

Damn! I forgot to dial the freaking area code. I swear to God, area codes have to be one of the stupidest things ever created.

I dial again, this time remembering the area code.

'Hello' answers mom.

'Hi mom' I say.

'Oh hi Randy. So where are you guys at now?' she asks.

'We're actually still in St. Louis. There was a car accident. I'm fine, but dad was hurt kind of bad. The doctor says he's going to have to be in the hospital for the next couple of weeks, so you'll have to come down here and stay with me and him' I blurt out.

'What?' mom screams in a panic.

'Uh…uh….I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll have someone watch Brad and Mark' she replies.

Jill's POV

Oh my God! I can't believe this has happened. I know sometimes Tim is a bit of a reckless driver, but he would never endanger Randy.

Okay, just stay calm Jill. You need to think. Okay, I can have Wilson come over here and watch the boys. I need to call Lucille. Um, okay, what else? Oh! I need to let Brad and Mark know what's going on.

'Mark! Brad! Get up here now!' I shout.

'What is it mom?' asks Brad as he comes running up the stairs.

'Your father and Randy were in an accident in St. Louis. Wilson will come over and watch you guys, I have to go down to St. Louis now. I'll make arrangements for you all to come down there as soon as possible' I rattle off, only half thinking about what I'm saying.

I now go out to the backyard. I see Wilson out there, which is a relief.

'Wilson, I need a **huge** favor. Tim and Randy were in an accident, and I have to go down to St. Louis. I need you to watch Brad and Mark. I'll make arrangements for the boys to get down there in a couple of days. Thanks Wilson' I command.

'Sure thing. I'll be right over' Wilson replies, without even complaining.

I go back inside, and get on the phone again. This time I'm calling Lucille.

'Lucille, it's Jill. You know Tim went down to Missouri to pick up Randy. Well, they were in a car wreck, and Tim is hurt pretty bad. We need to get down there as soon as possible' I explain.

'Oh my God. I'll head out as soon as possible' Lucille says. I can tell she's starting to cry now.

'I'm leaving now!' I yell to Brad and Mark.

I go out the front door, where the station wagon is, and I get in the car, pull out of the driveway, and turn off the street in what must be record time for anyone, let alone me.

As I round the corner, it seems like a dam inside me burst. Everything, all of the sadness and pain for Randy and Tim and just life in general come rushing out.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, but I had problems writing this chapter. It seems like I was always either distracted when I was writing, or I had no ideas for this story. It is definitely the hardest one for me to write at the moment.

As always, please R&R, I do appreciate it. I always like to know what people think of my writing. (Even if they think my writing sucks chicken lips).

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	12. Chapter 11: and Accidents

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 11

Jill's POV

I'm about 10 minutes down the road when I decide I should just take Mark and Brad with me to St. Louis, instead of leaving them behind. I dial the home phone number on my cell phone.

'Hello' Brad answers.

'Brad, I'm coming back to the house. You and Mark get ready to go, I'm going to take you guys with me after all. I'll pull into the driveway and honk the horn' I order.

After I get off the phone with him, I call Wilson.

'Wilson, I don't need you to come over after all, I decided to take Brad and Mark with me after all' I say before Wilson can even say "hello".

'Alright' is all he has to say in response.

'What made you change your mind?' inquires Wilson curiously.

'Well, you know what they say about Missouri, it loves company' I joke. This makes Wilson laugh. It may have been a joke, but I'm beginning to think Missouri really _does _love company.

'Bye' I say.

'Goodbye' Wilson replies.

I press the "off" button on my phone as I go skidding on to Glenview Road practically on two wheels. Thank God Tim will never know that that happened.

I honk the horn, and within two minutes, Brad and Mark come out carrying suitcases that they somehow managed to pack in the small amount time they had. Just thinking about how their clothes will look when they come out of the suitcases makes me shudder.

'Come on guys, move it! We need to get going' I bark. This motivates them. They abandon the idea of putting their suitcases in the trunk, and just hop in the backseat.

Once again I zip out of the driveway and down the street way faster than what I should. Once again, I'm off to Missouri. Once again, I begin worrying.

Well, from what Randy said, it doesn't sound like Tim is hurt seriously. Maybe he just broke some bones or something. Wait; is it even _possible_ to break a bone in a car wreck? I suppose so. It'd have to be wrecked pretty bad, but yeah, it could happen.

God, why did we even let Randy go on this trip anyway? Tim always writes off my fears and worrying, but when something like this happens, it disproves him and shows that my fears and worrying isn't just a bunch of BS.

* * *

Brad's POV

I think Missouri must be a bad state for the Taylors to be in. I mean, first Randy gets stranded there on a school trip gone awry, and now dad gets hurt. I'm almost scared to go to Missouri for fear of getting hurt.

Poor Randy, he must be sick of that state. After all, he's been there for over two months now. He probably just wants to get the hell back to Michigan and forget Missouri even exists. Not that I blame him.

I have to admit, I'm kind of jealous of him for being away from mom and dad as long as he was. That must've been really cool for him. Trust me, once he gets settled back into normal life, I'll make sure he pays hell for it.

* * *

Mark's POV

I admire Randy for not having a complete mental breakdown due to all of the stress of everything going on right now in his life. If I was him, I would've been a complete nutcase a_ looong_ time ago.

I will say this: I envy him for being away from home for two months. It must be nice to be able to do what ever you want to when you want to. Of course, when I'm able to do whatever I want when I want, I want to do it in Michigan, preferably even Detroit. Not 500 miles away in Missouri.

Honest to God, I never thought I'd say this, but I'll be happy to see Randy. He may be a butthole sometimes, but he _is _my brother, and I _do_ love him. (I just hope no one ever finds out that I do).

* * *

Randy's POV

I know I shouldn't have lied to mom about dad. Well, I didn't lie _per se_, I just didn't give her 100 percent of the truth.

Aw who am I kidding? I lied to her. I told the freakin' Moby Dick of lies. I mean, it isn't like if I tell her that dad is super hurt she can get here any faster. And if I told her the truth, it would just make her even more upset. So my lying is justified. What am I talking about? This lie wasn't justified. She is the man's husband for crying out loud! She deserves to know how he's doing.

I pull out my wallet, find some change, and begin to dial the numbers for her cell phone. Half way through, I decide against, and place the receiver back to its spot.

On my way back to the waiting area, I try to clear my brain. I have my head hung down, and my eyes closed. I get most of the way back when I step into some kind of liquid. I go sliding across the room, and hit my head really hard on the floor. Then everything goes black.

* * *

Mike's POV

Randy certainly is taking a long time at the phone. Not that it's any of my business what he does or how long he does it for. He's lucky though, he missed out on someone vomiting. Oh, here he comes now.

I start to warn him to watch out for the huge puddle of vomit that has yet to be cleaned up, but before I can, he steps right in it, and goes sliding to the other side of the room, and his head hits the floor so hard it isn't even jarred by the crash.

I'm on my feet and running over to him immediately.

'Randy! Randy, can you hear me?' I shout into his ear. No response.

Now the triage nurse is checking his vitals. After she's finished, she shouts 'I need a gurney out here!'

This poor kid has so much bad luck. First he gets stranded here in Missouri, then his dad gets hurt, now he gets hurt. It's just a damn shame that someone that young has to go through this much.

* * *

A/N: I hope this chapter was better than my last. Every once in a while I'll just have an off chapter. (I **am **far from perfect when it comes to writing, or anything else for that matter).

Also, I'd like to give a big thank you to Baxxie for making some suggestions about this chapter. My writing just wouldn't be the same without you Baxxie!

And just for anyone who's curious, this story is getting close to the end. I'm thinking maybe within the next three or four chapters it'll be over.

As always, please R&R. Reviews can only help me, my writing, and this story improve.

Oh, and by the way, I mentioned something about Missouri loving company. Missouri Loves Company is actually a song. (Of course, you Ringo Starr fans already know that).

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	13. Chapter 12: Meet Me in St Louie

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 12

A/N: This chapter takes place once Jill gets to the hospital. (Which is, oh I'll say around 8 pm on the day that the accident took place).

* * *

Jill's POV

I wish Randy would've told me what hospital him and Tim were at. I just spent the past forty five minutes driving around to different hospitals in the greater St. Louis area. Finally, I found the right one.

Right now I'm trying to find Randy. (Which I didn't think would be too hard since there is only one man sitting in the waiting area), but I don't see him anywhere. Maybe he's just in one of the restrooms. (I sent Brad and Mark to check).

Then the man stands up and walks over to me.

'Excuse me miss, are you Mrs. Taylor?' asks the man.

'Uh….y-yes, I am. And who you are?' I reply.

'I'm the man that drove your husband to the hospital. My name's Mike' he introduces himself.

'Oh, okay. Uh, where's my son at?' I ask, hoping he'll know.

'Your son had a bit of an accident. He stepped into some vomit and slid across the room and banged his head up pretty bad' explains Mike.

'Oh my God! Is he alright?' I ask, beginning to panic quite a bit now.

'I don't know. They won't tell me anything' responds Mike with an exasperated look

Just then Brad and Mark come walking back.

'We can't find him anywhere' Mark reports.

'Yeah, yeah, I know. He got hurt too' I tell them.

'You boys go sit down, I'm going to try to find out what's going on with your brother and father' I instruct.

I walk up to the big information desk, and wait for the receptionist to get off the phone. She does soon enough.

'May I help you?' she asks me.

'Yes, I'm Jill Taylor. My husband and son are both patients here. Their names are Tim and Randy. I was hoping I could see them' I explain.

'Okay. The same doctor treated both of them. I'll go get her' the receptionist smiles radiantly.

I wait there, feeling a little embarrassed standing up there, practically in the middle of the room.

In a few minutes, the receptionist returns with the woman who I assume is Randy and Tim's doctor. She looks to be in her late thirties or early forties, has red hair, glasses, and walks with a bit of a limp.

'Hi Mrs. Taylor, I'm Dr. Weaver. I've treated both your husband and son' she introduces herself.

'Yeah. What all has happened to them?' I ask. Dr. Weaver appears to be puzzled by the question at first.

'See, we live in Michigan. My son was down here for a school trip and he got stranded so my husband came to pick him up, then my husband was in the wreck, which is how we wound up here' I explain.

'Oh, I see' Dr. Weaver replies understandingly.

'Okay, I'll begin with Randy, since his problems are simpler. He simply slipped on some vomit in the waiting room. He has a moderate concussion, and will have some bumps, bruises, and minor pain. Obviously' explains Dr. Weaver.

'So what about my husband?' I inquire.

'Your husband obtained several injuries from the car accident. He has a mild concussion from his head banging up against the steering wheel, he has a laceration on his lower abdomen from the seatbelt, and several cuts on the side of his head from the glass of the window. Your husband is very lucky, one of the cuts is only a couple of centimeters above his carotid artery. He is also suffering from some blood loss, since the cut was so close to an artery' Dr. Weaver explains.

'Wait, when I spoke with my son several hours ago, he made it sound like Tim wasn't hurt very badly' I say, trying to figure out why Randy would lie to me.

'I don't know what to tell you Mrs. Taylor. I gave your son that exact same report when I spoke with him earlier today' says Dr. Weaver frowning.

'That's okay; it's not your fault. Well, it isn't really his fault either' I say.

We stand there for a moment.

'Uh, I'm going to go let my other two sons know how Randy and Tim are doing' I finally say.

I walk back to the waiting area, and sit down next to Brad and Mark. I explain Tim and Randy's conditions just as the doctor told me, only in slightly less confusing terms.

* * *

A/N: I'll have Brad and Mark's reactions in the next chapter.

As always, I'm sorry if any information is incorrect or unrealistic, but, as I've stated before, my business card does not read "Randy Taylor M.D.".

R&R if you want me to keep updating.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	14. Chapter 13: What We Feel and Think

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 13

A/N: This chapter takes place that night, a couple of hours after the Taylors got to town.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

Brad's POV

Why did Randy lie to mom? What did he think that would accomplish?

I just don't understand that kid sometimes. Ha, listen to me. He's 16 years old, and I still call him "kid". I suppose it's just a habit I got into, even though he's only a year younger than I am.

I hope him and dad will be okay.

Randy has a huge knot on his head where it got hit. That actually surprised me, because I always thought he was a real hard head. I'm never going to let him forget that he slipped on someone's vomit and got a concussion from it.

Dad just looks like a mess. He has cuts all over one side of his face, and has a pretty big knot on his forehead from his head hitting the steering wheel.

It is absolutely awful to see my own father hooked up to machines.

What could dad possibly have been doing that caused him to not see 2 tons of steel barreling towards him?

* * *

Mark's POV

This scares me. Dad being cut up and hurt; and Randy with his concussion. It all just scares the hell out of me.

I know sometimes it seems like I don't care about my family, and I know sometimes it seems like I'm just a gothic punk, but all of that is just a façade. That's just the image I'm trying to project, not the real me. The real me still wants to go running to mom when Randy and Brad make fun of me, and the real me still wants to be daddy's little boy. I just feel like I have to define myself in some way. I mean, Brad's the jock, Randy's the scholar, and Mark is just the one left out in the cold.

God, I feel like a jerk just sitting here thinking about me at a time like this when I should be thinking about dad and Randy.

Earlier when we went in to see dad, I wound up running out of the room crying when I saw him. I stood there a few minutes, then, it's just like something inside me snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. They drove everyone out after a few minutes anyways, since they had to change his bandages.

Brad looked at the side of dad's face where it's all cut up, but I couldn't stomach it. From what I saw, it looks bad.

This all just seems so unreal.

And, you know, I might be insane, but when we were at Randy's bed, it almost seemed like his foot had been chopped off or something. I guess I shouldn't worry about it, it was probably just the way he was laying or something.

* * *

Jill's POV

How much more can happen? How much more is there left for this family to survive? I know every family has bad things happen, but I think we're paying more than our fair share now. Of course, poor Tim, he pays a hell of a lot more than his share when it comes to ailments or injuries.

And poor Randy, that kid is just going to want to go home and lock him self up inside the house for the next six months.

God, I just wish this wasn't real. I wish that this was a nightmare or something, where I could just wake up and have it all be over with. Or, just some fantasy. Anything other than reality.

* * *

A/N:

I hope everyone's POV is believable, and not too fake, generic, et cetera. I'll be honest with everyone, I struggled with the point of views this chapter for some reason. I didn't want to keep saying the same things over and over again, but I didn't have many ideas either.

Oh, and just to warn everyone, the chapters from here on out **will** be shorter than normal, but it's the whole quality over quantity thing.

Please R&R if you want to find out whether or not the Taylors make it home to Michigan.

Thanks for reading, in the words of Tim Allen "I am your biggest fan, just because you are reading something".

No body can put it quite like Tim.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	15. Chapter 14: About a Foot Short

Meet Me in St

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 14

Randy's POV

When I come to, it feels like someone is pounding on my head with a steel sledgehammer.

'Randy, are you alright?' asks mom.

'I've been better' I answer.

'Wait! Mom, when did you get here?' I ask, sitting up with a jolt.

'Your brothers and I got here yesterday evening' she replies.

'Let me get your doctor' mom then adds.

She leaves, then returns a few minutes later with the same doctor who is treating dad.

'Hi' greets Dr. Weaver.

'Hi' I say back. It comes out sounding a little hoarse since my throat is a little sore.

'Randy, can you remember what happened?' Dr. Weaver asks.

'Yeah. I was coming back from the pay phone when I stepped in some water or something and went sliding. Then I guess I hit my head pretty hard on the floor' I say.

'Actually, you didn't slip on water, but other than that, everything is correct' says Dr. Weaver.

'What did I slip on then?' I inquire.

'Trust me, you'd rather not know' smiles the doctor.

'So when will he be able to be checked out of the hospital?' asks mom.

'Well, we'll see how he's doing when my shift ends, which is at 6 tonight. If he's doing alright, then I'll release him. If not, then he'll need to spend the night in the hospital' explains Dr. Weaver.

'What about my husband?' mom asks, continuing the barrage of questions.

'He'll need to be here for another week **at least**' Dr. Weaver says.

'Okay, thank you' mom says as the doctor leaves.

'So Randy, is it alright if I bring Brad and Mark in to see you?' mom asks me.

'Yeah, I am kind of missing them' I laugh.

'Okay, I'll be right back with them' she says, leaving once again.

A few minutes later, mom is back, with Brad and Mark in tow.

'Hey little bro' Brad says first.

'Hi Randy' Mark says after a few seconds.

'And who would you caring people be?' I joke. This gets a laugh from everyone, just like I intended it to.

'Not to be too forward Randy, but I just have one question. What's the matter with your foot? It just looks kind of funny' Mark asks.

'Yeah Randy, I've noticed that too. What happened?' asks mom.

Great, now I have to sit here and recite the story to all of them.

'I'll just give you the abridged version' I say.

As I sit there and tell the story, it just seems so unreal that all of that could have happened to a normal high school junior.

As I figured, Brad and Mark wanted to see the place where Hazel and Schocke hacked off my foot, and, also as I figured, mom did not. "Some other time" is what she said.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Dad still hasn't woken up yet, but that's nothing to be too terribly concerned with, says Dr. Weaver.

Brad, Mark, and I played with a deck of cards. At first it was just Go Fish, but then once mom fell asleep, we started attempting to play poker, which was hard since we only had three people. We had fun though.

At six o'clock on the dot, Dr. Weaver came by and started checking my vitals, feeling my head, and asking me questions that I'm sure she could ask in her sleep.

Apparently I checked out, because she said that I was free to go. Well, at least free to be signed out.

But before she signed me out, mom went to some retail place and got me some clothes, because she said my clothes were ruined from whatever it is that I slipped on (no one will tell me what it was).

I could definitely stand some new clothes, since I've only been in the old ones since I left Michigan, way back in January.

God, I just realized something. By the time we get back to Detroit, I will have been gone for almost two months. All of that just for a simple week and a half long school trip.

Just let the record show that it is my intent to never go on another school trip again, whether it is winter or not.

A/N: I'll just warn everyone, the chapters from here on out will most likely be shorter than normal. But, we are nearing the end of the story, and I'm trying to extend it by as many chapters as possible.

Please R&R if you want me to finish this story.

As always, thanks for reading. I appreciate it.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	16. Chapter 15: The Unnamed Chapter

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 15

Randy's POV

I'm sitting on the bed in the motel where we're staying when the phone rings. Brad and Mark are doing something (God only knows what), and mom is in the shower. So naturally, I'm the only one left to answer the phone.

'Hello' I answer.

'Hi, this is Dr. Weaver from County Hospital. Jill Taylor said I could reach her at this number. Is she there?' says Dr. Weaver.

'Yeah, well, I mean, she's in the shower right now, but this is her son Randy. You treated me for a concussion' I say.

'Oh, okay. Just tell your mother she needs to get to the hospital' Dr. Weaver instructs.

'Is it good or bad?' I inquire.

'It's good news, your father is awake' Dr. Weaver says.

'Okay, I'll be sure to tell her' I say

Just as I hang up the phone, mom walks out of the bathroom.

'Mom, Dr. Weaver just called. She said dad has finally woken up and that we need to get down there' I blurt out, since I don't really know how to broach the subject.

'Okay, go find your brothers while I finish up' commands mom.

I put my shoes on, then begin roaming the halls of the motel, checking vending machine areas, the bottom three floors (which includes our floor), the main lobby, and finally the top floor.

I begin to think I'll have to start the laborious (for me) task of searching the stairwells when I see Brad and Mark down at one end of the hallway. It appears that they're about to knock on someone's door. I decide to stand back and observe their prank in action.

A woman, clad only in a white bathrobe, answers the door. Of course, by this time, Brad and Mark had hidden down in a stairwell. I decide that I'd better try to look as nonchalant as possible, so the woman doesn't try to blame me.

Thankfully, the woman just goes back inside her room.

I hobble down the hallway, and surprise Brad and Mark just before they are about to pull the prank again.

'Come on guys, the hospital called. Dad's awake and we need to get there' I say, beckoning them both towards the elevator which carried me up to this floor.

'Why not take the stairs? It'll be faster' suggests Brad.

'My foot, pea brain. It'll take longer since I have no right foot' I remind Brad.

'Good point' Brad remarks.

Finally an elevator arrives, we ride it down one floor, and we go back to our room.

'Are you boys ready to go?' asks mom from the bathroom.

'Yeah' all three of us say in unison.

Once mom finally finishes up in the bathroom, we all migrate down to the station wagon.

When we get to the hospital, we find out grandma is there as well.

It's a tight squeeze, but somehow all 5 of the present Taylors manage to fit around the 6th Taylor's hospital bed.

'Tim, how do you feel? Are you in pain?' asks mom as soon as she gets settled in.

'Oh, I probably am, but I'll let you know for sure when the medication starts to wear off. Now, just tell me one thing. Where am I? I know I'm in a hospital, and I know who you all are, and I know who I am, but I just want to know what city I'm in' dad responds.

'You're in St. Louis Tim' grandma answers him.

'You mean we're back where we started? We didn't even make any progress Randy?' asks dad.

'It's not your fault that I'm still here' I say.

'Boys, I hate to ask this, but could your grandmother and I have a moment alone with your father? We need to talk to him about something' mom says.

Not without feigned protest, Brad, Mark, and I file out of the room.

* * *

Jill's POV

'What was going on when that car hit you?' I ask as soon as the boys have left.

'I wasn't doing anything. The doctor told me that the other guy, who is dead by the way, had been drinking heavily. He had a blood alcohol level of .11' replies Tim.

'So then we aren't to blame here?' I ask, just wanting to confirm that our insurance rates won't go through the roof.

Tim just shakes his head.

'I'm so glad you're going to make it. I'm glad that you aren't the dead one. I was so worried when I got here and found out that you weren't doing too well' I say, bending down to hug him as best as possible.

'Didn't Randy tell you how I was doing?' asks Tim, looking a little confused.

'He left out some minor details' I say, smiling a big, fake smile.

'A lot of very minor details' I then mumble through gritted teeth.

'I'll go get the boys now' I say, once again with a big, false smile.

* * *

A/N: Once again, sorry that the chapter is so short, but I've really been struggling these past few chapters, just because I'm getting dangerously close to the end of this story, and I want to draw it out as much as possible.

Please read and review if you want to know whether or not the Taylors all get home safely.

As always, thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	17. Chapter 16: Home Again, Home Again

Meet Me in St. Louie Chapter 16

Randy's POV

'Tim, do you have everything gathered up, ready to go?' hollers mom.

'Yeah, almost' dad shouts back.

'Tim, we are _not_ taking the IV bag home' mom says when she sees dad set the IV bag, still a third of the way full of whatever all was in his IV, down on top of all the mess that Brad and Mark have to carry down. Under other circumstances, I would be helping as well. Damn my lack of appendages.

It's been two weeks since dad first woke up now. It's also been two _months _since I've been in Michigan, and God do I miss it.

I can't wait to get home and see Lauren and Wilson and Al and Heidi and even Willow and everybody that I haven't seen since January.

'Alright boys, try to get as much as you possibly can in one trip. The car's right outside the window' mom says, rather absentmindedly when it comes to the last part.

'Wow mom, the car is levitating right outside the window there? Cool, then it won't take them long at all to get this stuff in it' I joke in my typical wiseass tone.j

'Oh hell! I mean right outside the doors downstairs' curses mom.

We all get a good laugh out of that one, including dad.

Soon enough, everything is packed into the (non-levitating) station wagon, and we're all set to depart.

The ride back to Michigan is long, boring, and uneventful. Needless to say, mom drove.

I wind up sleeping most of the way, and I'm pretty sure that dad does the same. (Not that I blame him).

* * *

Lauren's POV

I hope Randy can make it home safely. Poor guy, he's been gone from Michigan for what?, about two months now.

Mr. Taylor called me and told me what had happened. I didn't even know anything had happened for a couple of weeks, and didn't know what exactly had happened until Randy called a month ago. (See, I didn't go on the trip).

I can't even imagine how Mr. and Mrs. Taylor must've felt, having their son gone for a month by himself in a strange state.

I just can't believe that no one realized where he was or why no one went looking for him. I mean, surely someone saw what happened to him. (What did happen to him anyways)?

Well, I know this. I'll definitely be interrogating him about his adventures once he gets home. The main thing I want to know is why it took him so flippin' long to call? I mean, if he just got stranded, why wait a month?

* * *

The Next Day

'So you say you wound up in Columbia, Missouri?' asks Wilson after I finished telling him about what I've dubbed "My Great Missouri Adventure". Yes, I know, it's a very cheesy name, but it sounds better than "Meet Me in St. Louie" or something like that.

'Yeah' I reply.

'I have some friends there. Schocke and Hazel Palmer. They're very nice' Wilson comments.

'You know Schocke and Hazel? They're the ones that helped me out. I thought they were a little different, but nice definitely' I say in utter shock (no pun intended) that Wilson knows the hippie couple.

'Oh, if you think they're strange now, you should've known them during the Summer of Love' Wilson says, chuckling.

'I think I'm glad I didn't then' I remark.

'Well, that certainly sounds like a grand adventure. I wish I could've had something similar to that happen to me when I was your age' says Wilson.

'Yeah, but Wilson, you know what L. Frank Baum says in The Wizard of Oz. "There's no place like home"' I quote.

'I've taught you well Taylor teen' Wilson laughs.

'You sure have' I laugh.

We just sit there for a few minutes laughing.

Then I get the strangest feeling. Somehow, some part of me knew that this "grand adventure" for lack of a better term, would all turn out to be okay.

And you know, looking back on everything that happened, I don't regret any of it happening. Well, okay, maybe I do regret losing my right foot, but hey, if I'd gotten stranded in some exotic place like Hawaii, then I'd probably have to pay an arm, a leg, **and **a foot to get back home again.

That thought makes me laugh even more, even though a month ago I wouldn't have found that thought funny at all.

Yes, there really, truly is no place like home. And it feels so very good to be there.

* * *

A/N: Don't worry; this isn't the last chapter yet. I still have an epilogue of sorts waiting in the wings. (But, it is only 289 words long, so don't think you'll be getting something enormously huge). But, the catch is, I'm waiting until July 26th to update, because I have to go back and have another surgery (hopefully for the last time) done on my nose. My surgery is actually the day before, but July 26th will be the three month anniversary of Meet Me in St. Louie.

I say "of sorts" because it isn't a traditional epilogue, or even a traditional ending to a story. Just think of the 1980's TV series St. Elsewhere. But, I think I've already said too much here.

You all will just have to read and review to find out what I mean.

Oh, and the joke about the car levitating outside the window came about due to a typo I made. I meant to type _the car is right outside the doors_ but instead typed _the car is right outside the window_, and I laughed so much at that, I decided that I had to keep that in there. I hope you laughed as well.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of the help that everyone has given me throughout this story.

Special thanks to Colin Creevey who gave me the idea of adding in Lauren's point of view for this chapter.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	18. Epilogue: Here's My Story

Meet Me in St. Louie Epilogue

A/N: I meant for this to be updated on the 26th, just as I promised. However, in light of recent events, I decided to wait four more days and post this on my grandpa's birthday. Thanks for not chewing me out over being late.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

Randy's POV

'So Wilson, what do you think?' I ask him.

'It's a very addictive story. It'll definitely get you an A plus' Wilson replies.

'You don't think "Meet Me in St. Louie" is too ambitious for a high school creative writing assignment?' I ask, wanting to make sure that I haven't gone overboard.

'No, it's a wonderful story. I love the way you incorporated everyone into the story. Including my self' assures Wilson.

'Do you think I should maybe use a different ending? Or do you like the happy ending better?' I ask, continuing the bombardment of questions on my poor neighbor.

'I like the happy ending, but it's your story, so write it how you think it should be' advises Wilson.

'Thanks for the help. I can't wait to turn this in on Monday' I say with a smile.

* * *

A/N: Wow! That was a bit of a twist, or at least I hope it was. :)

I hope no one saw that coming. (Because I went out of my way to have this story end like this).

Please R&R, even though there will be no more chapters. You can still show your liking for this chapter.

Thanks for reading this chapter, this entire story, and all of my stories.

But seriously, I hope everyone enjoyed a lot of laughs, a lot of tears, and a lot of suspense along the way. I know for a fact that I did.

I also want to give a huge thank you to anyone who has helped me out with this story. I couldn't have done it without you all!

-Yours truly, Randy "The Missourian" Taylor


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